Gold Stars and Red Scars
by onceawarbleralwaysawarbler
Summary: Ever wonder how Rachel takes pressure? Trigger warning for cutting. Hints of eating disorders. Angsty drabble


A/N: Well. Sorry 'bout this.

_**Trigger warning: you've been warned.**_

I do not own Glee, or anything related to it.

_**Gold Stars and Red Scars**_

Rachel rocked back onto her heels, her hands gripping the porcelain toilet in front of her.

Ms. Pillsbury was right. She _didn't _have a gag reflex.

_ 'Damn._' She thought, sitting against the wall in front of the toilet, tears pricking her eyes.

She just wanted to be pretty.

_'Why can't I be good enough, for once? Why can't I just be the perfect girl?_

As she thought this, her mind fluttered unconsciously back to that afternoon's events.

X

'_Rachel, you're really sweet, but I think you were right. You should focus on your dreams. I don't want to hold you back.' Finn said, hugging her one last time before he turned on his heel and walked into the choir room. She felt her face crumple as she stood by her locker. _

_ No last 'I love you'. No farewell kiss. _

_ She wasn't good enough for Finn. _

_ And if that wasn't enough, Glee practice that day was terrible. _

_ Mr. Schue gave the solo to Quinn._

_ Quinn Fabray, who she saw kissing Finn goodbye near his locker after practice._

_ Quinn Fabray, who got everything she ever wanted._

_ Quinn Fabray, who got everything __**Rachel **__wanted. _

_ As Rachel gripped her steering wheel at the stop sign near her house, she made her decision. _

_ She was going to make herself beautiful so Finn could love her again._

X

As she buried her head into her arms as they rested on her knees, Rachel sobbed, then lifted her head, a determined look on her features. As she pushed herself off of the cold tile floor, she glanced at her bathroom counter, where there was a small drawer.

A drawer which held the answer to her problems.

She moved towards the door, and locked it swiftly before turning and gripping the drawer handle. She yanked it open, and immediately found what she was searching for.

Glistening up at her from the top of the pile of clutter in the drawer, was a shiny silver razor blade.

As Rachel grasped the small, sharp object in her palm, she felt herself stop.

_Why was she doing this? She'd never had a problem with bullies before. She'd always been able to brush them off without a problem. _

Then, as she looked up at her reflection in the mirror, she realized why.

Finn left her for Quinn- _again_- because she was _weak_.

Looking over herself, she noticed the dark circles under her eyes that were never there before. She saw the lines on her forehead from her wrinkling her brow in confusion and anger so frequently, and- possibly worst of all- she could see her flat, small, fragile frame through her nightgown.

She felt herself swallow harshly, and, without thinking, slid the blade swiftly across her pale wrist. She watched with awe as a thin red line of blood bubbled up slowly, bringing all of her worries, pain, and insecurities with it as it slowly dripped down the inside of her wrist. She breathed in shakily and slowly but surely led the blade across her wrist once again. This time, the blood rose to the surface faster, almost as if it had been waiting nearby for her to slice her skin open.

When she looked into the mirror once again, she saw the broken girl that was once so confident, so sure of herself.

The girl that was now long gone.

She led the blade back down to her arm, and dragged it down her arm, from her palm to the crook of her elbow, pushing harshly, wanting to see herself become beautiful again.

As the blood rushed forward once more, Rachel felt a wave of dizziness rush over her. She watched the blood leak from her arm, and, with a small smile on her face, ran the blade across her wrist once more, overlapping the large one that was running down her arm. As the large beads of red bubbled to the surface, she breathed out slowly, feeling herself relax. She dropped the small blade next to her, the silver metal now stained with her blood. Her head lolled to the side, and she slid down the wall across from the counter, holding her arm out in front of her. As she sat down, she watched the blood all pool in the crook of her elbow, slowly dripping off of her arm onto her nightgown. She smiled lazily to herself.

She may not be pretty anymore now, but, soon, she will be again.

X

A/N: Dear Readers,

If you _ever_ feel the need to cut to make yourself beautiful, please, please, _please,_ don't do it. I was not trying to glorify it with this fic. If any of you _ever_ need someone to talk to, please, don't be afraid to message me on her or on Tumblr. I know how it feels. Having someone to talk to really helps.

I love you all.

Thanks for reading. xx


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